Shinobi love
by Tikvah
Summary: It's times like these he sometimes wish they weren't shinobi. Shika/Neji, drabble-ish.


Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Naruto franchise, only this silly writing.

Warnings: Yaoi, very non excplict sex scene. No beta - they are all my own faults ;P

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><p><strong>-:- Shinobi love -:-<strong>

It's sometime between midnight and early morning when he returns to the apartment. Everything is still dark outside but the air is beginning to lighten and soon the first birds will start to wake up, serenading what seems to be yet another beautiful day in Konoha.

For now though everything is calm and despite this it's only after he focuses and listens to the soft breathing from the bedroom that he lowers his guard, relaxing slightly.

He removed the porcelain mask almost immediately but it always takes some time to step back into himself. He wasn't fully human yet; he could still feel the cold, frustrated anger of Owl flowing through his blood. The persona makes it easier, doing what they do, because Owl is not him. Though they share the same body he doesn't have to carry the memories of Owl's actions when he's himself. Doesn't have to carry the guilt.

Piece by piece he strips away the ANBU uniform and persona from himself, stepping into the shower.

The way Owl kills is so different from his own; ANBU requires the use of non distinctive jutsu leaving him soiled by things that has never stained the white of his usual robes. He is ANBU but as the sweat and grime and blood gradually leave his skin he becomes Hyūga.

Outside he carefully wipes the water of the glass and lets his eyes roam the familiar contours of his own face in the mirror. That's when he notices the person slouched against the door and he is happy to feel no surprise at this fact; it means he really is back.

"Hey…" the dark eyes seek out his in the mirror, careful not to say his name. Because that's the first rule of dealing with ANBU: never break the persona, it can turn out very ugly. "Are you back?"

He nods and turns around just in time to be caught up in a tight embrace. "I missed you" he sighs into the tan neck of his partner feeling fingers gently combing through the wet mass of his long hair.

"Yeah, me too."

Close together they lay down in the bed spending a long time just watching each other and breathing in the calm closeness between them.

It's times like these he sometimes wish they weren't shinobi.

Because it's times like these he feels an unexplainable urge to make promises of forever. To whisper sweet words of the fate he still believes exist and paint them a future of that closeness. Mornings when he would always wake up to the image of those dark eyes and that tan skin smelling faintly of grass and smoke with a slight trace of chalk from the long hours his lover spend in the academy's classroom.

He never does.

Because they are shinobi and to them forever doesn't exist. In an hour, tomorrow, next year, they can all be forever depending on how long you manage to live; it's just an empty phrase. That's why forever is a taboo word to them. It implies empty promises and disappointment.

Instead he leans in and steals himself a kiss that quickly grows in intensity between them. Hands ever so carefully ghosting over skin becoming bolder and bolder, the touches less asking and more demanding.

When Shikamaru's fingers caress his skin like this, making him loose all control of his body and when he feels muscles trembling ever so slightly beneath the palms of his own hands, he sometimes wishes they weren't shinobi.

Their bodies are closer than close but the only sound is barely audible gasps and heavy breathing, the occasional rustle of sheets. Otherwise the room is absolutely quiet.

He desires nothing more than to let go of the screams stuck in his throat, nothing more than to hear the others deep moans he can taste in their kiss. But shinobi are silent and after a lifetime of training to be so neither of them remembers how to fully let go. Instead, as their bodies tense and shudders out of control, they cling to each other in a moment of deafening silence.

He sometimes wishes they weren't shinobi, afterwards when the atmosphere in their bedroom is warm and soft. Still entangled their bodies lie close and he knows that it's probably not really comfortable for either of them. There is no room for softness in shinobi and years of training to become the perfect weapon has left them with nothing but solid muscles and sharp angles that press uncomfortably into the other when they come too close like this.

So they untangle to be side by side again, still close because it will be a little while longer before their minds catch up with them. Before this closeness becomes uncomfortable as every movement of the other triggers a reflex to defend since really, they are too vulnerable like this.

But for now the closeness is still welcome and Neji smiles as he feels fingers carefully try to untangle the new knots in his hair. Carefully he reaches out and lets his own fingers travel between the many birthmarks strewn all over that gorgeous tan skin, trying not to pay attention to the barely there flinch and how the dark eyes watching his turns colder and more analytical – it's to be expected. Their time is running out and despite what he sometimes whishes, they are both shinobi. The only thing soft and warm about them, he reflects as he withdraws his hand, is their skin.

Neji sometimes wished their relationship could be called love because it wasn't. Civilians loved, they could afford the luxury of wearing their hearts on their sleeve. Shinobi could have no such weak point. With everything he was he wanted love but he knew that because of the things they had seen and done as shinobi they had both grown to callous for such a frail thing as love to grow between them.

Maybe it should make him sad but even if he sometimes wished them to be different he knew that when it came down to it, there was nothing he wanted to change. Because despite the lack of the love civilians had, despite the distance on the bed they shared and despite the lack of softness there is still a connection between them.

Neji feels Shikamaru's dark eyes study his face for a moment before leaning closer. "I'm glad you're back. I missed you." He whispers shortly in Neji's ear before he withdraws and Neji can't help but feel himself smile.

Civilians always wanted to hear another set of words, demanded more than what seasoned shinobi like them would be able to give. But in moments of unguarded closeness like this those are the only words they will whisper to the other.

"I missed you too" He replies.

And because they are shinobi, tired of always being wrapped up in layer upon layers of deceit and secrets, that quiet truth says more than any other words ever could.


End file.
